One
by BlueIrishEyes
Summary: One prophesy that fortells of dark times. One tyrant who cruelly rules. One kingdom longing for freedom. One rebellion willing to stand. One girl who can save them all. One epic fantasy that will pull you in. INDEFINITELY ON HIATUS


Disclaimer: I'm only going to do this once, so here it goes: the plot and characters (for the most part) are my own, but the places and general ideas belong solely to Gail Carson Levine. I just write for the hope that I can satiate all of your cravings for epic, intense fantasy.

Rating: T for moderate violence and thematic events.

Summary: A prophesy foretells of a cruel tyrant that will overtake Kyrria and of the darkness that will befall the kingdom under his brutal hand. All hope is lost for seventy years, until a rebellion rises to fight for the freedom they had lost, with the help of one mysterious girl.

Chapter Warning: The prologue is very very long, but it gets everything ready for the rest of the story and (hopefully) its worth the read. You might want to read it in more than one sitting, but I hope you will be pleased with it.

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Prologue: The Prophesy

The library of the castle was heavily quiet, as if the dusty tomes were muffling ancient whispers of far-off places and long-ago times. The undisturbed, intimate feeling was an effect of the lofty shelves pressing so near each other, like the high walls of a deep maze. To some it suffocated in its closeness, to others it gave security.

It had been a learning place for the royal family and their courtiers for as long as it had existed. Young princes and princesses were confined to the ancient space with a governess until they had mastered the arts of literature and language, history, arithmetic, sciences, politics and government.

The constant flames in the fireplaces crackled hotly against two young girls pinked cheeks. They scratched quills across parchment, taking notes from thick volumes as a gray-haired woman with a pinched face supervised them. Occasionally they shifted uncomfortably, bringing life back to their stiff limbs.

The first girl was fair-complexioned with fine, golden hair. Her blue eyes wandered as she quickly lost interest in her work. She had small features, a delicately arched nose and slender lips. Her petite frame made her appear younger than her twelve years. Her tiny feet were noticeable as she swung them beneath her chair.

"Nora! Focus on your studies. A princess should never abandon her education," the thin-lipped governess snapped. She resembled a hawk the way she peered over her half-moon spectacles at the blonde girl.

Nora nodded her head slightly and resumed pouring over the text in front of her. The girl next to her hid a half-smile at her friend's chastisement. She was of the same age, although she looked much different. Her dark hair fell down her back in waves, reflecting the dancing light of the fire. Pale skin accompanied strong, feminine features. High cheekbones and full lips hinted of coming beauty. She stood a whole head taller than her friend and was long and slender. Her green eyes crinkled as she stifled a giggle.

Nora quickly shot her a glare and she instantly stopped smiling. Then she too ducked her head and continued her work.

Another hour passed in silence as the girls finished their studies. Madame Pierce sat quietly, completely occupied with correcting the previous day's work. The first sound was of the elderly woman clearing her throat.

"That's enough for today. Please turn in your notes."

The two girls hastily stood and approached the other side of the table. The dark-haired girl held out her leaf of paper. Madame Pierce reached for it and swiftly scrutinized the miniscule, orderly writing.

"Very detailed, Arin. Well done." She nodded her head in approval, then reached to take Nora's. Her mouth twitched into a frown.

"Your Highness, you must improve your penmanship. It is hard to read your untidy scrawl."

"I apologize, Madame. I will try to improve," she said insincerely. She smiled widely. Arin clasped her willowy hands behind her back and tried to conceal another smile at Nora's small defiance.

Madame Pierce sighed tiredly. Resignedly, she stood and moved towards the library's massive double doors. "Don't forget to put away your books and be here on time tomorrow." She turned to look pointedly at Nora before she closed the doors behind her.

The moment she was gone, the golden-haired princess laughed, bell-like and sweet. The dark-haired friend smiled gently but remained quiet.

"You really shouldn't behave so boldly, Nora," she said half-heartedly, as though she knew it wouldn't make a difference.

Nora scoffed and threw her blond curls over her shoulder. "I just get so sick of acting like a princess. You're lucky, Arin. I would give anything to have a father who was captain of the Silverguard instead of King." She moved over to the table and picked up a stack of books.

Arin followed her and picked up a stack of her own. "You should feel lucky too, Nora. I don't know better people than King Char and Ella," she argued lightly, "and they love you more than anything."

Nora sighed. "I know. It's just annoying to be so stifled sometimes." She walked among the shelves, stopping to push a book onto a shelf.

Arin nodded understandingly and moved to put away her own books. As she placed the last book on a shelf, her intense eyes noticed a weathered, leather-bound scroll case wedged above the tops of the other books. Sliding her fingers around it, she worked to pull the case out and remove the round lid. Gently drawing out the yellowed scroll, she unrolled the paper and held it to the light.

The ink was faded and the edges of the paper were worn. It had no title. Arin wonderingly read over the antiquated words.

_A dark shadow grows closer_

_An evil seeking to destroy_

_The royal family, defeated, will fall_

_With them the times of peace_

_Despair will grip every heart_

_There will be no laughter_

_No gay music or blissful tales_

_The Golden Years of Kyrria_

_Will be lost forever_

_A tyrant will rule with an iron fist_

_The day will be dark_

_And the night will bring terror_

_Thieves and murderers will abound_

_Countryside will become wasteland_

_Cities will burn and fall to ruin_

_Few will remember_

_The long ago time of light_

_For seventy years_

_Fear will prosper in our land_

_Seeping into Kyrria's depths_

_Then out of the ashes_

_A hope will spring forth_

_A rebellion will emerge_

_Secret in organization_

_Stealthy in action_

_Formed by brave men and women_

_Willing to fight for their freedom_

_They will question the ruler_

_Defying the darkness they have known_

_A hero will rise beside them_

_Emerald-eyed and raven-haired_

_Raised in a world that is not her own_

_A warrior, strong and fierce_

_Kyrria's races will join under her_

_In an alliance to break their bonds_

_Their cages of repression_

_People that for so long had distrusted_

_Will find faith in her_

_United with the rebels_

_She will end the reigning of the shadow_

_Only she can save Kyrria_

_Only she can save us_

_We must end the oppression_

_We must find our freedom._

"What's that?"

Arin jumped slightly as Nora stood on her toes to read over her shoulder. She held out the scroll so Nora could read it.

The princess narrowed her eyes as she read. "I've heard about this before. My mother talked about it once. She said it was just some old story that a fairy told." She took the scroll roughly from Arin's grasp, ripping off a corner.

"Let's go outside. I've been cooped up far too long," she said as she rolled up the scroll and pushed it back into the worn case. Nora set it absentmindedly on a bench as she went out.

Arin walked out with her but paused just long enough to turn and glance back. The scroll lay on the bench, unheeded and unheard. _Maybe it's not just a story, _she thought. She recalled the haunting words that foretold the royal family's fall. But then she sighed and turned away, pushing the mysterious scroll out of her thoughts as she closed the library doors.

"Hey, Nora! Wait up!" she called as she picked up her skirts and hurried after her golden-haired friend.

And so the scroll remained in the warmth of the library, hidden from those who needed its warning, from those who needed the message most. For centuries, the people of Kyrria had forgotten the prophesy. They lived in a world of ignorant bliss where their only concern was for the next day. No one believed the prophesy because no darkness had befallen their prosperous kingdom, and it was simply dismissed as a legend, a myth, a fable.

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Ella frowned as Mandy walked slowly into her quarters. Her skin was sallow and her eyes sunken. The young queen had never seen her friend look so old.

"Mandy, are you ill? Maybe you should lay down for awhile," she asked, concerned.

The fairy sighed, but shook her head. She continued moving over to the nightstand, placing a tray of meat and cheese unsteadily on it. As she turned she stumbled and fell.

Ella gasped and ran over to her. "Mandy! Are you alright?" She knelt down beside Mandy, turning her face so she could see her. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be asleep.

"Char! Char, come quickly!" Ella called. The king rushed into the room a few moments later.

"Help me get her on the bed," his wife ordered. Char lifted the fairy up easily, as if she was a child. He quickly laid her on the bed as he asked, "What happened?"

Ella dampened a cloth using a pitcher on the nightstand. She positioned herself on the bed next to Mandy, carefully placing the cloth across her head.

"She just collapsed. I thought she looked sick so I asked if she wanted to lay down, but she didn't. Usually she never has health problems."

They sat with her for several minutes, quietly talking. Nora entered the room just as Mandy opened her eyes.

"Mother, I was wondering if …" She dropped off as she took in the scene in Ella's rooms. "What's wrong with Mandy?" she asked as she moved to the bed. Her skirts ruffled mutely.

"I'm fine, sweet girl," the fairy reassured weakly.

Nora frowned. "You don't sound fine. I thought fairies didn't get sick."

Mandy attempted to sit up, but Ella's hand on her shoulder stopped her.

"Mandy, what's wrong?" Ella asked with narrowed eyes.

Mandy looked from face to face sadly. "I'm losing my magic."

Nora gasped. "How? Why?" She reached for Mandy's hand and grasped it firmly.

Mandy sighed wearily. "I knew this would come sometime. Darling, the fairies' magic is fading. We're dying."

"Mandy, no! How can that happen?" Ella asked, her eyebrows furrowed worriedly.

"Our moment has passed. It is now time for humans to stand on their own. Dark days are coming, and there will be nothing we can do to help. It is up to you to save yourselves," Mandy explained. She looked up at the three confused faces around her and gently smiled.

"I have gotten to a point in my life where I have seen everything I needed to see. My life is full of warm memories. I have nothing to regret. It is time for the fairies to move aside so that humans can have their day. Your race will be tested, but you will become stronger than you can ever have imagined."

Nora had started to cry. Ella looked at her daughter, but couldn't do anything to console her because she was just as upset. Char looked from his wife to his daughter and then back to Mandy forlornly.

"Oh sweetie, don't cry," Mandy soothed. She sat up slowly and gathered the golden-haired girl in her arms. She turned towards Ella and curled an arm around her too.

The family sat in quiet for a long time. Ella and Nora were pulled close to Mandy. Char had his hand placed comfortingly on Ella's back, his other hand stroked Nora's curls.

The hour moved on and the sun set beneath the graying clouds and still they lay, drawing on each other for strength and support.

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"Arin, dear, will you take this book to your father in the study? He was asking for it earlier." Arin's mother handed her a thick volume entitled _Making Soldiers Out of Men_. Valera Eniht was a beautiful woman, the kind that only became prettier with age. Her black hair was swept up into a knot at the back of her head and her face was smooth as porcelain. Arin was a miniature version of her, except for her eyes. Her emerald eyes were just like her father's.

Arin took the book in both hands. "Of course, Mother."

Valera smiled. "And then it's off to bed for you."

"Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight, Arin."

When she reached the polished oak of the study door, Arin took a deep breath, knocked twice to alert of her presence, and pushed open the heavy door. She paused inside the doorway, quiet and still.

Her father looked up at her from his armchair by the fireplace. His mouth broke into a wide grin, showing a row of straight, white teeth.

"Arin, my girl! I haven't seen you all day. Come here," he implored. He put down the sheaves of paper he was holding and stretched out an arm to welcome her.

Arin smiled back. Her father was a big man with broad shoulders and a ready smile. His laugh was deep and rolling and his green eyes always glittered. Liam Eniht was one of King Char's most trusted courtiers, a close friend , and Captain of the Silverguard, the inner circle of Kyrria's most select and trusted knights. His job was to solve problems of utmost importance, to oversee all training of soldiers, and to ultimately protect the royal family at all costs.

"Mother told me to bring you this book." She held out _Making Soldiers Out of Men_.

He took it in one hand and with the other pulled his daughter toward him into a tight hug.

"Thank you, my dear." She smiled into his strong chest, glad to see the father that was usually occupied with other matters.

When he let her go, he placed the book on a short table beside his previously filled chair. He turned towards her again, a hand on either arm.

"So, what did my girl do all day?" he asked happily.

Arin grinned and swept her black hair gracefully out of her eyes. "Well, this morning I had studies in the library with Madame Anatelle and Nora. She said I did good work today. Then we went outside and played in the garden, until Nancy brought us lunch. Then Ella slid on the banisters with us!"

Liam's laugh resonated through the study. "It sounds like you had a full day, and I'm glad you found time for playing with the princess." Then in a more serious tone, he added, "I'm very proud of you, Arin, for working so hard in your studies. It's going to be important in your future for you to know all you can about Kyrria and its organization."

"I know, Father." She bowed her head slightly.

"Arin," her father said, "you are of the Eniht line." He lifted her chin with a finger. "Our family has, for generations, been in charge of the care and protection of Kyrria and its people. When you come of age, you too will pledge enduring allegiance to our kingdom. Our lineage is rich with brave, loyal people. You will be one of them. Remember, you have a legacy to preserve the freedom of Kyrria."

Arin looked Liam in the eyes, breathed deeply, and responded, "Yes, Father. I will do all I can to carry the Eniht name with pride," just as she had been taught.

Her father's serious expression cracked with pleasure. "That's my girl. You'll be a shield maiden yet."

They were abruptly pulled out of the jovial moment when the study door swung in loudly. A man dressed in the blue and grey of the Silverguard burst in breathlessly.

"Sir, the castle is under siege! Several Silverguards have already fallen, as well as many soldiers. We are outnumbered!" The man's eyes were hard and fierce, ready to fight.

Liam Eniht stood up tall and formidable. "How can that be? Our spy network has discovered no resistance groups large enough to consider as a threat."

The guard remained unwavering and stalwart, although a flicker in his eyes hinted at his own disbelief. "I have never seen these dark-skinned, light-haired men before. They must have come from another land. But it doesn't matter how they got here, it matters that they are. They have set the town ablaze, sir, and we cannot hold them for much longer!"

Arin's father lithely moved into action. He buckled on his long sword, firmly attaching the sheath to his waist. The Silverguard crest was etched into the sheath, a symbol of his eternal loyalty to Kyrria. It was detailed, even on the stiff leather, showing the two crossed swords held in the talons of a silver hawk, wings outstretched, ready for flight.

The Captain of the Silverguard strode towards the door, determination and will imprinted across his face.

Before he left with the resolute Silverguard, he turned to Arin. "Arin, remember that dagger I gave you for your birthday? Take it with you and go somewhere to hide with your mother. I will find you. Do not come looking for me," he commanded. Then as an afterthought, he added, "or Nora. I love you, my girl." He smiled once more before he turned away. Then he was gone.

The study felt empty without his warm presence. It seemed as if all the life had left the room.

Arin stood still for several minutes, immobilized by her concern and fear. She saw Ella riding the banister in the front hall of the castle as Char smiled at her actions, her own father laughing with his beloved Valera, and she saw Nora. Trouble-making, mischievous Nora, ever defiant and strong. A single tear slipped down her colorless face.

Then she shook her head to rid herself of the distracting thoughts and resolutely clamped her jaw. _I won't let my father down._ She glanced around quickly then gathered up her skirts and sprinted out of the room.

"Mother! Mother!" she called as she searched through the base floor of the Eniht manor. She continued to yell as she rummaged through her own room, searching for the knife her father had spoken of. She finally found it in the top drawer of her dresser underneath a lace petticoat. It was a small blade, only four inches long, and the handle was bejeweled with small stones. The cool metal felt foreign to her touch, but made her feel safer none the less.

Her mother stepped into her room at that moment, eyes wide and questioning.

"Arin, what are you yelling about?"

Arin looked up at her as she spoke. "Oh, Mother! We have to go, we have to go hide! The castle is under attack. Father's already gone to round up the rest of the Silverguard. He said to hide. We must go!" she explained breathlessly as she gathered up a blanket, a cloak, and the dagger. She brushed past her mother, grabbing her wrist on the way to drag her along.

They ran to the front door of the house as quickly as their full skirts would allow. Arin threw open the door but the sight that met her panicked eyes made her stop suddenly. She heard her mother gasp beside her.

The city around them was completely shrouded in flames, the fire licking towards the black sky like a hundred hissing snakes. Screams and shrieks sounded around them, piercing and heart-wrenching, clouding their thoughts. Dark men with long, light hair ran like a mass of ghostly monsters through the streets with torches, setting fire to anything upright. Bodies lay on the cobbled paths, staring and flaccid.

Arin stood in the doorway, unable to move, unable to think. The only thought in her mind was of the prophesy in the library. _A dark shadow grows closer, an evil seeking to destroy_. It had been true all along. No one had heeded the prophesy, and now its terrifying message was upon them. The dark shadow was here.

The ghastly realization finally forced her into motion and Arin once again pulled her mother to her. "This way! We have to get out of the city!" She raced north towards the road behind the castle, bumping into frantic civilians as she went. "Hurry! Stay close!"

Arin's mind was reeling. There was no way Kyrrian soldiers could hold the castle, even with the Silverguard's support. As they hurried down an alley, Arin tried to calm herself. The alley soon opened onto the main road that ran beside the castle and connected to the highway behind the castle. The two women gasped as they realized that the road had been overtaken by the gruesome men. Everywhere they ran, stopping people from exiting the city with the swing of a flashing sword, closing off the road.

Arin thought quickly. The only other way to the road would be to directly cross the courtyard of the castle to reach the merchant highway on the other side. The two women sprinted around another alley corner, the castle gates finally in sight. Nervously, they looked around before they silently moved through the gates to the inside of the high, stone walls. People ran everywhere haphazardly. It was complete chaos.

They began to move across the cobbled yard. The once perfectly kept gardens were torn and mangled. The flowers had been trampled and much of the soil was upturned.

Arin felt too exposed in the vast, open expanse of the courtyard, despite the crowding of soldiers, castle workers, and the unknown men attacking the city. She was wary, cautious. Her grip on the dagger in her left hand tightened as she pulled her mother swiftly by her side.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of paleness. She turned towards the lightness and just managed to jerk out of the way as one of the dark men leaped for her. Instinctively, she thrust her dagger to the right where the man had overshot her. She felt it hit flesh. Only barely in the darkness, she saw the man fall to his knees, the knife in his back.

Arin's mother whimpered. Staring in shock, Arin stood gazing at the man on the ground. She had just killed someone. She fought to take breaths as they were coming short and shallow.

A pounding, as if of a thousand heavy feet resonated through the courtyard. Arin and her mother finally looked up from the horrible sight at their feet only to be met with another. A great swarm of dark men were marching through the gates. Their faces were painted with red and white streaks and their weapons were shining eerily in the torchlight. They chanted as they came, words that Arin couldn't understand. But a single man instilled more fear in Arin's heart than all the rest of the men.

He had black skin and white hair. The stark contrast made him seem all the more threatening. His eyes took in everything in an alert, intelligent way. He was at the front of the group, obviously the leader. His very presence commanded power.

But the worst aspect of his appearance was his face. It was inharmoniously handsome in a mysterious, chilling way. He had delicate, smooth features and his electric blue eyes pierced all they touched. White figures had been drawn across his cheeks, grotesque and strange. Even in the face of death and destruction, he was smiling. His leer reeked of self-satisfaction and an insatiable need for supremacy. He was evil in the rawest form, stripped of all disguise and unrestrained.

Arin couldn't look away. Quietly she dragged her mother behind the trunk of the massive maple tree she and Nora loved to climb at the corner of the castle wall, all the while keeping her eyes trained on the man's mesmerizing face. Silently, they watched as man after man poured through the castle gates.

The man with the white hair ascended the steps to the front entry of the castle. He turned toward the mass and began to speak. His voice was deep and melodious as he addressed his men. The language was unlike any Arin had ever heard. She could only compare it to Ogrese in its smoothness, but that was the only similarity. She couldn't describe it. None of the man's words sounded like any Arin knew, so she had no idea what was being said. All she knew was that she had to get away from that man.

She tugged at her mother's hand gently to get her attention, then tilted her head towards the back of the castle. Valera nodded and followed noiselessly as Arin lead her along the side of the castle wall. Slowly, they felt their way around the structure until they emerged in the moonlight behind the castle.

It was unusually silent. Arin had thought there would be people trying to escape this way, but there was no movement of anyone.

"This way. We can scale the wall at the west corner." Their feet made no noise as they ran across the dewy grass. They stopped where the outer walls met to form a corner. Vines grew unchecked across the surface.

Arin whispered to her mother. "Use the vines to help pull yourself up. There's a tree on the other side to climb down." Valera nodded and turned towards the wall, grabbing a thick rope and hoisting herself up. Arin glanced over her shoulder before she too, grasped a plant. She reached the top of the wall and straddled it to stabilize herself. She paused a moment to look back at the ruined city.

Smoke gave the sky an ethereal, gauzy look. She watched, sickened, as people fell under the stroke of a blade or the head of an axe. She felt completely helpless. Her kingdom was falling apart before her eyes and she had no power to stop the destruction. Sadly, she looked up towards the castle. A glow emitted from every room, illuminating dark shadows as they danced across the windows. She heard screams and pleads, but they didn't register in her mind. She felt numb and overwhelmed. She couldn't watch the devastation anymore.

Turning away, she dropped over the wall into the tree on the other side. Her mother stood trembling, gazing glassily at the dirt road that ran away from the castle. Arin faced the wall for a moment. Father. Nora. Ella. Char. They were all inside, trapped with the darkness that had come from a distant land to destroy their own. The words of the prophesy repeated in her mind, over and over like a bird's call. _The day will be dark and the night will bring terror_. Never before had Arin been so frightened, so hopeless.

After a moment's hesitation, she lifted her chin doggedly and turned to face the road. The wind whispered chilly to them, beckoning them forward with the faintest of fingers. The road was bathed in moonlight, shining in the darkness of the night. It was their chance to get away from the terror.

Arin stepped to her mother and slipped her small hand into Valera's larger one. They looked at each other, silently drawing on each other for the strength to continue onto a life that will never be the same. Then together, they stepped towards the road.

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For three days, the despairing country was ignored. People hid behind charred walls, scared to walk in the light of day. They kept their children close and quiet.

The dark men patrolled the edges of the city, assuring that no residents left the ruins. Anyone found escaping was impassively cut down.

No word came from the castle. No soldiers emerged. No messengers came bearing news. The people remained in a state of confused unawareness, but no one sought out any information. Their curiosity was drowned by their fear.

Then on the third day after the dark men's invasion, a small group of men casually walked out of the crooked metal gates of the castle. Led by the man with the smooth face and piercing eyes, they paraded towards the center of the city.

Wooden stairs creaked and bent under unfamiliar weight as three hooded figures were escorted by two dark men up previously idle steps. The tallest of the blinded shapes stood straight beside the thin frame next to him. Shivering and fragile-looking, the smallest third was pushed beside the other two. Hands tied behind their backs, they stood quietly, without struggling. Thick, coarse ropes were expertly knotted around their necks.

People watched wide-eyed, peering from behind tipped market carts, through broken windows, and around the corners of damaged buildings. They were silent, careful not to draw any attention.

But as dawn rose on the morning of the third day, broken-hearted and lifeless, the silence was shattered by the cracking of three ropes as the trap door of the gallows fell out.

The white-haired man looked coldly contented at the gently swinging forms, then calmly turned and moved back toward the castle, never glancing back. His men noiselessly followed him, traveling in his heartless wake.

For several long minutes, there was no movement in the quiet square. Slowly though, Kyrrians began to move closer, eyes never leaving the bodies. They gathered hopelessly. Soon the cobbled square was filled with people, all silently grieving. Mothers enfolded their children into their skirts, turning away from the sorrowful sight. Men's strong faces were marred by tears as they gently trailed down their weathered cheeks.

Still the people stayed, mourning, as the sun climbed higher in the gray sky. It's cheerless rays seemed to mock their anguished hearts as it lit up the square. The beams reached out, coldly fingering the royal crest emblazoned across the tallest body's chest, on the sleeve of the womanly figure beside him, and on the pendant around the neck of the pale little girl.

That day marked the beginning of the tyrannical rule of the dark man. It marked the end of free Kyrria. And that day marked the beginning of the fulfillment of a long-forgotten prophesy.

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The white-haired, black-skinned man quickly assumed control of Kyrria. He was a cunning and intelligent man, capable of finding unimaginable ways of getting what he wanted. He refused to be a king, believing that monarchy was a weak institution. Instead he ruled a dictatorship. The people simply called him Cadros, whispering his name in hushed tones, fearful and wary.

The dark men Cadros led from his far land were the enforcers of his evil actions. The Shadows, as Kyrrians labeled them, freely roamed the towns and cities, adapting to life in the kingdom naturally. They were unfeeling, calculating men who unaffectedly resorted to deception, lies, and violence. A new social order was introduced as the Shadows mercilessly took all they wanted with no regard to the Kyrrians. The Shadows were superior, believing the local people to be a weak race. No one spoke against their discrimination.

The Kyrrians soon learned to mutely do as they were told, to keep their eyes down, and to never show emotion in fear of the Shadows' wrath. Almost willingly, they sacrificed their land, their treasures, and their old lifestyles. They lived in economic misery, having forfeited their prosperity to Cadros and his regime. Many had to beg or steal just to find enough food for their families.

The Shadows, although supposedly working to prevent Cadros' new realm from tearing itself apart , did little to stop crime. No royal guard or soldiers were left to patrol the towns. The devoted, resilient Silverguard was no more, systematically killed by the Shadows. No one was there to prevent misconduct. Petty thief became common and with time inflamed to murder and armed robbery. The streets were not safe at night, and rarely were during the day either. Every man carried a weapon on his waist, and it was common for women to carry small daggers for self defense.

That night when the castle fell to Cadros instilled more fear and pain in Kyrria's hearts than any other time in the kingdom's history. It brought changes to the races.

Through the years, the people themselves became cynical and dismal. Their hearts hardened and they learned to keep a distance from each other. They never trusted and were wary of even their closest acquaintances. Kyrrians, once known for being amiable and loving, were now found to be cold and unsympathetic. They were guarded in word and in heart, speaking only when absolutely necessary, knowing that a wrong remark could lead to life-ending consequences.

The elves also felt the far-reaching effect of the human's misery. A shy people to begin with, they retreated to their forests and were rarely, if at all, seen. Cautious and distrustful, they ceased all trade with Kyrrians. Their gentle nature gave way to cool detachment. Although they were still creators of fine arts, even their sculpture found an mournful style. Those who looked upon the elves' ever beautiful work would cry and sadden with the sorrowful subjects of the art that made the country's fall touchable.

Ogres transformed under Cadros' rule as well. Given free rein to plunder and kill, they wandered the backlands of Kyrria without hesitation. Often they came into towns, raiding and leaving a massacre in their wake. They formed an unstable alliance with the new ruler. Cadros often used them to remove threats, and in return, let them move at will without disruption from his Shadows. The very thought of ogres sent Kyrrian hearts beating wildly in fear.

Dragons all but disappeared. What few were left were captured by Cadros' legions and forced to work pulling heavy military carts and guarding the castle. Their hatred of men deepened under their slavery and they were almost untamable except for the violence and abuse Cadros broke them with.

The once slow-thinking centaurs finally awakened their minds, becoming sharp warriors of the forests. They were hard and unfeeling, their sole survival lying in their ability to defend themselves. Accurate and skilled in swordsmanship and especially archery, they were deadly to all who crossed their paths. Those who didn't adapt to their different lifestyle were imprisoned by the Shadows and forced to work as common horses. As a result, they harbored a deep hatred for the Shadows and all things human. They were distrustful and solitary, keeping to themselves for the most part. Occasionally, they sought out the elves to form treaties over water and land rights and consequently formed a tentative peace with the fellow forest-dwellers. They believed the fall of Kyrria was due to man's corruption and wickedness, therefore they strove to be as principled, ethical, and steadfast as possible. They were blatantly honest, almost to a fault, and used their candor to their advantage. They didn't associate with men at all, except to pause long enough to notch a stiff arrow into the tough string of a bow and let it loose. Despite their lack of contact with men, they learned their language so they could better understand the men's dealings, preferring its simplicity to the complicated language of their ancestry. Yet within their own clans, they spoke little, remaining a stoic people even among their own kin. They kept a close watch on all the races of Kyrria, making sure none dared invade into their territory.

In the months after what became known as the Dark Night, the giants quietly left the country. Disliking confrontation and gentle in nature, they moved away, leaving enormous deserted ruins behind. Within a year, all the giants were gone.

The fairies had already disappeared. Their magic would never help the races through the darkened times. The peoples couldn't turn to them to be saved. They would have to save themselves.

ooooooooo

()ne()ne()ne

ooooooooo

53 years later…

A storm raged outside the grimy windows of a small, plain house. It shook the cracked glass panes and tore split shingles off the roof. Trees bent under the wind's merciless blow and the cobbled streets were washed with murky water as rain poured down in great sheets. Thunder growled staunchly overhead as sinister clouds raced across the sky. The moon was the only source of light in the blackened night, but it was obscured by fog and streaming clouds. A lone woman darted across the road, a wet cloth held uselessly over her head with one hand to shield from the relentless rain. Her other arm clutched a small bag close to her chest. She stopped on the doorstep of the house, turning to glance back up and down the deserted street. Facing back to the wooden door, she pushed it in and stepped out of the downpour.

An elderly woman sat in the dim room, rocking gently in an old chair near a small cot. Her white hair seemed to glow like newly fallen snow and the lines in her face showed years of wisdom and experience. She looked up at the sound of the door creaking open. The soft, pale light from the half-hidden moon cast a ghostly gleam on the woman's face, illuminating a trail of tears as they leaked from each of her weathered eyes. In her arms she held a small bundle close to her chest. It made soft whimpering noises, but did not cry out.

The woman from the rain let the cloth fall from her head, revealing rust-colored locks falling in wet ringlets down her back.

"Where is she?" she asked quietly. "Is she alright?"

The rocking woman simply nodded toward the bed forlornly.

After staring intensely at the wrapped shape, the red-haired young woman stepped close to the bed to see a still form lying on the stained sheets of the bed.

Another young woman lay there. She was pale and pallid and her dark hair lay in damp pools around her. Rivulets of cold sweat ran down the sides of her strong face as she breathed shallowly. Her eyes were closed tightly against the pain that was so evidently written across her hauntingly beautiful face.

"Céide, can you hear me? Céide?" the redhead asked gently.

The dark woman's eyelids slowly, laboriously lifted, revealing two astonishingly bright green eyes.

Her voice sounded exhausted as she said, "Anna? I'm so glad you're here." Her slender fingers reached to find the freckled hand of her friend. She attempted to smile, tiredly raising the corners of her full, red lips.

Anna leaned in. Whispering, she comforted, "I'm here, it will be alright. I'm going to stay with you."

Céide's jaded emerald eyes lifted to meet Anna's shining blue ones. "My baby? Is she alright?" Her voice rose the slightest amount in a show of desperation and panic.

Anna turned to face the woman holding the bundle. At her glance, the old midwife nodded her head and smiled mournfully.

Squeezing Céide's hand, she soothed, "She's fine, don't worry. Mara is taking good care of her."

The dark-hair woman closed her eyes again and breathed deeply. Quietly, with a poignant air of acceptance tinting her voice she said, "Anna, you must take her far away. She cannot stay in this hate-filled world."

Anna nodded. "Of course. As soon as you are feeling well, we will leave. We can go at night, maybe to Ayortha. We could find safety there."

Céide sighed. "No, Anna. You must leave tonight. And I won't be going with you."

Anna's ginger eyebrows rose. "Why not? You can't send your baby away!"

Sadly, Céide met Anna's wide blue eyes. "I can't go with you because I'm dying. I wasn't strong enough to give birth so early after the sickness. I can feel it in my heart. I was just waiting for you to come before I left." She spoke so wisely, like she had experienced heart-wrenching grief before.

Tears began to fall down Anna's sun-tanned face. "You can't die! I won't let you. You have to stay with me, with your baby girl. We'll get the doctor, he can help."

Céide shook her head, her ebony hair falling limply around her head. "The doctor can't help me know. Please don't worry about me, Anna. I'm ready to get away from this horrible life we live. I'm ready to go someplace where I can be happy and where I won't be scared everyday. I want to be able to sit among the clouds and wait patiently for you and my precious baby." Her eyes flickered over to the quilt-wrapped infant in Mara's arms. "I want to be able to live without fear. I want to be able to seen my husband again." Now her eyes too began to moisten.

Anna was silently sobbing now. She began swaying gently as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand placed over her lips in distress. Her hair fell in front of her eyes but she didn't reach to brush it away.

Céide shook her head faintly as tears trailed down her own white cheeks. "Anna, please don't cry. Promise me you'll take care of my baby, promise me you'll take her somewhere safe. For me, Anna, for your friend!," she begged, her voice breaking slightly. "Anna, promise me!"

The red-head finally stilled at the touch of her friend's cool hand. She looked up, then murmured tearfully, "I promise."

The emerald-eyed beauty smiled and relaxed, loosening her muscles so that she sank farther into the dampened sheets. "Let me see her one more time," she implored.

Hesitantly, Anna stood and moved to the old woman in the rocker. Gently, she placed her hand under the bundle and lifted the newborn up slowly. Deep green eyes stared out of the quilts. She looked like an earthly angel with pale skin and dark wisps of silken hair.

Carefully, Anna turned back toward the bed and leaned to rest the little girl in Céide's trembling arms. Silently she sat back down beside her friend as she watched the mother lovingly gaze at the daughter.

Salty tears dripped off her chin as Céide held the baby close. Whispering, she cooed, "You are so beautiful. I've never seen anything so exquisite in my life." She glanced up at Anna. "Have you ever seen something so perfect?" Her sallow face radiated a last light as she spoke of her daughter.

Anna smiled demurely and shook her head. "Never."

Céide's face brightened and she tilted her head back down. Then her face saddened again. "I want you to be safe, my baby. I want you to grow up away from here, away from this misery. I won't be there, but I will always be watching over you. And I will always love you, always." Tears were streaming down her face now. Her voice became quieter, as though it was spent or worn out.

Céide turned to Anna. Her voice, although tired and small, was now instructive and practical. "There's a wooden chest in the closet over there. Inside you'll find a small leather pouch with a black drawstring. There's also a blue quilt with silver stitching. Please bring them to me."

Quickly Anna stood and hurried to the other side of the dingy room. Locating the chest, she rummaged about until she found a perfectly stitched, silver and blue quilt folded neatly at the bottom. Placed upon it was a small leather bag tied with short black tethers. Taking a moment to finger the soft material of the blanket, she admired the obvious display of sacrificed time, dedicated work, and unconditional love. In the bottom right corner, the letter L was carefully embroidered into the fabric.

Standing again, Anna went and sat down softly on the bed again. She delicately handed the two objects to the tired mother and watched as she lovingly wrapped the dark-haired girl with the quilt. Tenderly, she place the bag in the folds of the blanket.

Céide looked up at Anna thoughtfully. "Don't open this pouch until you are far away. There are things inside that would only bring you trouble, but it must stay with this baby." Her voice became low and completely serious. "Do you understand? This pouch must stay with her. It's a part of who she is."

Anna nodded obediently, but her expression showed her curiosity. "I'll always keep it with her."

"Good. And this blanket, can you tell her that I made it? The L stands for the love I will always have for her. Will you tell her that?" Céide pleaded.

"Of course. She will know you, I promise."

Céide smiled wearily again. Then she looked down one last time into the face of her little daughter. Her youthful eyes met Céide's dying ones. Turning away, the heartbroken woman held out the small shape to her friend, trusting that she would take care of her treasure.

Anna pulled the baby close, secure in her arms, then glanced back up at Céide when the dark-haired woman spoke.

She sounded old and fatigued and her voice was halting and irregular. "Take care of her, Anna. Take care of yourself too. Be safe," she paused as her throat tightened. "Love her for me, alright? Be sure she's happy. And don't worry about me, I know where I'm going. I'll be fine."

Anna tried to smile. "I know."

"I love you, Anna. You were the best friend I ever had."

Leaning gently over, the red-haired woman embraced the dark one. Wiping droplets from her eyes with one finger, she pulled away. "I love you too, Céide. I'll never forget you."

Anna stood up, baby in arms, and took a step back. One last time, she clasped Céide's icy hand. Then she let it fall softly to the bed as she walked away.

She was almost to the door when she stopped.

"Anna! I will never be very far away," Céide called hoarsely.

Anna turned to glance back at her friend. Mara was standing over her, drawing the blankets higher up her chest. Céide's eyes were luminous with promise and love. Slowly, she smiled one last time. Then she lowered her eyelids gradually, hiding away the beautiful emerald eyes.

Anna looked down at her muddied boot toes, then once more at her best friend. Céide was still now and her breath was very shallow and labored. Her glossy dark hair contrasted harshly with the stark pillow as she turned her head away.

Anna felt a single tear meander down her freckled cheek before she turned away for the last time. Her fiery hair licked about her face as a bitter gust of wind blew around her thin frame when she opened the door. After pausing for a moment to raise her chin resolutely, she lifted a small foot and stepped down into the flooded street, striding out into the night. In her arms she carried an emerald-eyed, raven-haired baby girl.

ooooooooo

()ne()ne()ne

ooooooooo

Muffled hoof prints sounded quietly as the brown horse trotted along the dirt road, the moon casting a haunting glow upon the land. Its rider was silent and mysterious, effectively hidden by a coarse brown cloak, its hood drawn low over her face. She kept glancing over her shoulder, as if being hunted by an unseen monster.

One whitened hand gripped the stiff reins tightly and directed the horse skillfully in the driest, most forgiving parts of the road. Her other arm was tucked in the folds of her dark wrap, pressed tight to her chest as if shielding something from the night air.

The wind blustered around playfully, as if mocking the seriousness of her situation. The earlier storm left the road in a watered disarray, pools of muddy water concealing the ground, hiding whatever dangers lay beneath. Black leaves lay immobile, plastered to the dirt and pathetically dreary.

Suddenly, the horse's delicate ears flicked backwards, hearing movement too distant for the woman to perceive. He tensed slightly, the muscles in his hindquarters tightening and his broad head rising higher in alarm. Then he whinnied piercingly, shattering the silence in a chorus of anxious calls.

"Shhh, be quiet!" the woman desperately whispered, placing a shaking hand on his clammy neck. She rotated her torso to look down the open road fearfully. Her eyes widened and she gasped deeply.

A group of men riding dark horses were easily distinguished in the grey light, their long pale hair catching the moon's traitorous glow. They were approaching steadily, purposefully. Their horses ran easily under them, stretching their legs across the raw earth in great, bounding strides and spraying glittering droplets of water around them.

Urgently, the cloaked woman dug her heels into her mount's sides, persuading him into a haphazard gallop. His hooves chewed at the dirt, sending wet clumps into the air behind them, thudding heavily on the ground. The rush of air from the sudden speed blew back her hood, revealing a smooth pale face, shiny with adrenaline.

She leaned close over his neck, still clutching an unseen bundle to her body. Her cloak billowed out behind her, blending with the horse's streaming tail. Her crimson hair surged around her pale face, unruly and wild.

Casting a fearful glance back, she whimpered at the nearing closeness of the Shadows. She looked both ways along the banks of the road for any kind of escape, her eyes resting on the dense forest lining each side. Quickly deciding, she sat up and forcefully pulled the reins to the right, directing her horse up over the caving bank and into the rough undergrowth. Obediently her horse continued parallel to the road, dodging trees and lifting his legs high over bushes and fallen logs.

Thorns and sharp branches tore at her face like the fingernails of some feral animal. Burrs and barbed twigs embedded themselves into her thick hair, pulling harshly. She lay against the horse's neck, burying her face in his abrasive mane to shield herself from their merciless harassment. Icy droplets fell from high leaves, sending shivers down her spine.

After a several minutes of thoughtless escape, the woman tugged a few times on the cold reins, halting the gelding behind a large cedar tree. He stood with his head hanging and his legs slightly splayed, his sides rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for the cool air.

Absently, the woman rubbed a hand along his drenched neck while peering through the foliage for any sign of the chasers. The sound of cracking branches and hooves beating found her attention on the left.

She let out a single hopeless sob, before turning the weary horse around and urging him into a fast trot. They headed towards the heart of the forest, delving deeper into its unyielding midst. The relentless sounds of pursuit kept them at an grueling pace, trying to lose their hunters uselessly in a series of twists and turns.

A deep, throaty, heavily-accented voice resonated through the trees behind her. "Stop! Fleeing Kyrria is a sin punishable by death, halt while you have the chance!"

She almost listened, but the sudden appearance of a faint trail through the thick forest gave her the slightest hope, enough to continue running. With the smallest of movements, she directed her horse onto the track and pushed him forward to a full gallop. Giving her one last effort, he stretched his neck and lengthened his stride, his hooves pounding out a muted rhythm on the ground.

Her heart lightened with the fleeting chance of being able to outrun the Shadows and she took a deep breath to restore calm to her mind. For a moment, she let the panic go.

But the short instant of optimism was quickly drowned by the whistling of an arrow. Its sharp head rushed to her right, narrowly missing her and hitting a tree instead. Her horse's ears fell flat against his head in fright, and he sped up a fraction more.

The woman let out another desperate sob, tears freely cascading down her face in long streams. She knew there was no chance. She should have known all along.

More menacing arrows flew by, each one coming closer and closer to its target. The horse was in a reckless frenzy now and the woman was struggling to even stay in the saddle.

The dull sound of point striking flesh was something foreign to the woman. In an almost hysterical state of wonder, she thought for a moment on the odd, alien noise.

Then the pain hit her. It was unbearably intense, exploding across her back as though she was being ripped apart by dozens of razor-sharp needles. She felt it deep inside her, causing the very depths of her body to cry out. She moaned once before the reins slid through her slack hands and she slid off the side of the horse's back.

It continued to gallop away uncontrollably, oblivious to his fallen rider. His hooves seemed to drum continuously, growing farther and farther away.

The woman lay still on the hard ground, her breath coming in jagged swallows. Her arms lay sprawled in odd angles around her and her flaming hair fanned around her ashen face. Her eyes, the life fading from them quickly, stared up at the dark sky in a blue brilliance. The broken arrow lay crooked beside her, seeming futile and harmless in its pathetic fragility. Her face, masked with an expression of pitiful acceptance, radiated the light of the moon in mocking disdain. The scene was almost beautiful in a haunting, unearthly way, giving an ruthless, austere quality to the world around her.

Four horses came close, their dark riders expertly winding them around tree trunks and rocks. They halted at the feet of the woman, giving the Shadows time to confirm the deadly shot. After a moment's glance, they heartlessly turned away from the woman, her death just another event in their cruel lives. They rode away indifferently, leaving the woman alone just off the edge of the dim forest trail.

All was silent for a long time. Then abruptly, the hushed night was filled with a despairing cry. The sound was heart-breaking in its loneliness, carrying across the air like the mournful cry of a wolf. It was continuous in its sobbing, unrelenting in its wailing, but occasionally it would die, leaving the night in heavy silence. Then it would pierce through the calm once more, imploring someone, anyone to come to its aid.

After half an hour of the erratic lament, another sound reverberated through the trees. Eight hooves trod lightly down the trail, walking cautiously toward the haunting echo. The pale moon illuminated the bare chest of a male centaur, his sides flashing under its cherubic glow. He held a skillfully crafted bow, one muscular arm holding back the tight string, poised for action. A female came behind him, her sinewy arms hanging tensely by her sides, one hand gripping a long dagger. Her yellow hair fell in waves over her bare shoulders, brushing against the tie of her crude shirt.

The male's dark legs slowed warily, coming closer to the mysterious noise. His black hair ruffled slightly as the wind swept through the trees silently. The female came to walk beside him when the trail widened., the muscles in her golden hindquarters tight and ready.

The male suddenly halted, at last seeing the still form of the red-haired woman. He held out a tanned hand, indicating for his companion to stop as well and lowered his bow. Slowly, his hooves clopping heavily on the still-damp ground, he moved closer to inspect the woman. His eyes crinkled in a detached sort of pity before he turned to the female and nodded his head solemnly. She frowned contemplatively and cast her eyes to the ground.

The grieving call brought her head up again and she stepped around the first centaur toward it. He turned as well, following closely behind her gently swaying, blonde tail.

Her rich, brown eyes crinkled as she squinted into the darkness for any unusual forms. She searched across the shadowed ground, her keen eyes finally coming to rest on a pale blue bundle. Slowly, carefully, she lifted her bronze legs and approached the source of the mournful sound.

Her companion watched warily, not moving except for the restless swish of his dark tail.

The blond centaur now stood over the mysterious entity, her eyes wide in wonder and surprise. Bending at the waist and extending her hands low, she tenderly picked up the blue shape, cradling it in her arms. She turned to the male with an expression of dazed rapture gracing her strong features.

With lowered brows, he stepped forward to gaze at the bundle. Emerald eyes met his own hazel ones. The baby opened her mouth, cooing gently and reaching out a tiny hand to touch the cool air.

The two centaurs lifted their eyes to meet in silent awe at the amazement of finding something so unexpected in the wild of their forest territory.

The male extended a hand to delicately finger the fabric, tracing the embroidered L on the corner. A peek of brown drew his curiosity to a tuck in the exquisite blanket. Folding back part of the blue quilt, he extracted a small, soft leather bag tied with dark tethers from within the swaddling.

Taking a step back, he fumbled with the tie and widened the drawstring. Holding his palm flat, he upturned the pouch so that its contents fell into his hand. The golden female watched his actions intently, curious also as to the treasure of the seemingly trivial bag.

Like a waterfall cascading in slow motion, an elegantly twisted gold chain spilled from the leather, glinting brilliantly in the moon's ghostly light. On its length was a round pendant that resembled some sort of coin. It was flat, presumably made of gold, and about the size of the baby's clenched fist. But its craftsmanship was finer than the most valuable of Kyrria's coinage.

A hawk clutching two crossed swords was etched upon its surface, obviously incredibly detailed and painstakingly created by a professional artisan from the long-forgotten time when Kyrria was a haven for cultural arts. Each of the hawk's individual feathers was embossed with a silver inlay and the swords' blades shone with the same meticulously done metalwork. Entwined below the ambitious raptor were the letters S G in elegant script.

The baby interrupted the centaurs' gazes by uttering a pitiful whimper and beginning to cry. The blond centaur turned to her and embraced the infant closer to her chest, reassuring and calming her. The female then looked up at her male companion, a weighted glance passing between them.

After a long, pensive pause, the dark-haired centaur nodded decisively, returning the sparkling chain to the bag. He turned away, heading back the way they had come, his powerful legs gracefully striding down the trail, his tail swishing absently. He paused for a moment at the still body of the red-haired woman, mourning over the loss of such an evocatively innocent human. Shaking his head in commiseration, he finally moved away, leaving the heartrending vision behind.

The female took one glance down at the baby girl before she too turned down the trail, a slight smile warming her face. The baby in her arms cooed contentedly and softly closed her emerald eyes, finally falling into a blissful sleep.

Trotting to catch the male, the golden-haired female hastened off into the dark night. The stars winked above in the black sky and the moon cast its beatific shine on the forest, illuminating the two centaurs as they retreated into the deep wild, bringing a raven-haired baby into their world.

_A hero will rise beside them_

_Emerald-eyed and raven-haired_

_Raised in a world that is not her own_

_She will end the reigning of the shadow_

ooooooooo

()ne()ne()ne

ooooooooo

A/N: I know that was excruciatingly long, but I felt that the prologue needed a lot to set up the story. None of the other chapters are going to be as lengthy, so don't let this deter you.

I also know some of you are probably upset at me for some of the actions and events, but they were needed to portray the depth of my point. Believe me, I love Ella as much as the next person, but her death was needed for poignancy. I hope that in the end you enjoyed it!

Drop me a review and let me know if you liked it or not, I would love constructive criticism - were there any parts that jumped at you? But please, just review. I'm not going to put in hours of work if I don't get any support, so please persuade me.


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